


The Rebel and the Rose

by MyBeautifulDecay



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 20:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7546131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBeautifulDecay/pseuds/MyBeautifulDecay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two errant Highlanders crash through her window looking for sanctuary one evening, the choice she makes to harbour them will change the course of her life forever. Set in Derby, 1745, on the lead up to Culloden, 1746.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rebel and the Rose

The storm was raging outside, Claire had shut her windows to stop the wind from blowing her room into a frenzy. The whole town had been abuzz earlier with the arrival of a group of highlanders, they’d marched south with Bonnie Prince Charlie to build an army to unite against King George and the Protestant monarchy. She’d seen some of them, all clambering together, drinking, all in high spirits. They hadn’t seemed like the brash barbarians they’d been made out to be in the broadsheets. But still, she had kept her distance. 

Ever since her Uncle Lambert had rented her a small ground floor apartment in Derby and left for another lecture, somewhere in France, she’d kept a low profile. She was in her late twenties, and alone; that was cause enough to create a stir in the little villages they usually ended up in. Luckily they only stayed for a small amount of time and Claire could ignore the natterings of her temporary neighbours. On this occasion, though, he had been gone for a long while, and she wasn’t sure when he would resurface again. She regretted isolating herself. 

A banging on the window pulled her from her reverie. Odd, it faced a small alley to the side of the building, barely visible from the road. Standing still she waited for it to abate, certain it was just the wind and her mind playing tricks on her. It didn’t; it got louder, more voracious. She was sure the glass would crack if it was allowed to continue. Slowly, she walked across the small living room to perch at the side of the sill. Squinting, she could see a silhouette; tall and moving hastily against the wall outside. 

She held her breath; what would someone want with her at this hour? 

The stranger pounded again. A fist, distorted through the pane of glass, caused the shell of the wood around it to vibrate. She could simply ignore it, she didn’t have to open up to her mystery caller, but something in her gut told her she should. Guided by this notion, she carefully pulled the metal latch up and slid the window open on its hinge. 

In the ensuing mess of bodies, Claire threw herself away from the pane and stood against the far wall, watching the two men battle to get themselves through her small window. Her eyes were wide, shocked, she was sure there had only been one man, but now there were two, and they were huge! 

A tangled mess of limbs; red hair; a massive thick beard; kilts, and a mass of fabric tumbled, finally, through and the largest of the pair turned and quickly slammed the pane to. 

There was a commotion, they were speaking in a foreign tongue. They spoke so fast that Claire couldn’t identify what it was, pointing and then rushing from the room in a flurry of activity. She stayed against the wall the entire time, scared to make herself known. They disappeared into the hall where she could hear them shuffling around her apartment. 

“You! Lassie; cellar? There must be a cellar, aye? Where?” The smaller, bearded man barked at her, pointing around the room like it should miraculously appear in front of his eyes. 

She held her hands over her chest, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. “T-the small closet…it’s t-there, in there. U-under…the rug.” She managed to stutter out, her lungs somehow allowing her enough air to communicate properly. 

“Good lass…Jamie? Closet!” His gruff tones echoed through the half empty lounge room as he turned, a jumble of plaid and man, his harsh boots scraping on the wooden floors, and scampered off in search of his friend. 

She heard the doors open and slam and assumed the pair had found their refuge. She slid to the floor, her hands shaking, her knees unable to hold her, and just sat. She stared at the door through which they’d disappeared, half expecting the highlanders to reappear, but neither of them did. 

She waited. 

Eventually she heard them, scrambling about beneath her. She rarely ventured into the small room under the flats, but Uncle Lamb had put some of their belongings down there, to store, before he’d left. She hoped, at the the back of her mind, that he’d put some blankets in those boxes, something that they might use to keep warm. 

The wind had calmed, and the night wore on. Claire sat, her back against the solid wall, needing some reassurance. Her eyes became heavy and she finally curled up on the rug, unable to move herself to her bed. She slept fitfully, images of the two Scotsmen dancing through her dreams.


End file.
